The day on which the Guru of Cashmire made his entrance into Lahore, was
a day of public festivity and joyous agitation to its inhabitants. The
higher casts, the Brahmins and Chitterries, went out by the gate of Agra
to meet him, some mounted on camels splendidly caparisoned; others
reposing in palanquins, luxuriously adorned. At sunrise, the sacred
procession appeared descending an eminence towards the town. The
religious attendants of the Guru, mounted on Arabian horses, led the
van; followed by the Ramganny, or dancing priestesses of the temple,
who sung, as they proceeded, the histories of their gods, while
incarnate upon earth. Their movements were slow, languid, and graceful;
and their hymns, accompanied by the tamboora, the seringa, and other
instruments, whose deep, soft, and solemn tones, seem consecrated to the
purposes of a tender and fanciful religion, excited in the souls of
their auditors, emotions which belonged not all to Heaven.
This group, which resembled, in form and movement, the personification
of the first hours of Love and Youth, was succeeded by the Guru, mounted
on an elephant, which moved with a majestic pace; his howdah, of pure
gold, sparkling to the radiance of the rising day. Disciples of the
Brahmin surrounded his elephant, and were immediately followed by a
palanquin, which from its simplicity formed a striking contrast to the
splendid objects that had preceded it. Its drapery, composed of the
snowy muslin of the country, shone like the fleecy vapour on which the
sun’s first light reposes: its delicate shafts were entwined with the
caressing fibres of the camalata, the flower of the Indian heaven,
dedicated to Camdeo, the god of “mystic love,” whose crimson blossoms
breathed of odours which soothed, rather than intoxicated, the senses.
The acclamations which had rent the air on the appearance of the Guru,
died softly away as the palanquin approached. An awe more profound, a
feeling more pure, more sublimated, seemed to take possession of the
multitude; for, indistinctly seen through the transparent veil of the
palanquin, appeared the most sacred of vestals, the Prophetess and
Brachmachira of Cashmire. Her perfect form, thus shrouded, caught, from
the circumstance, a mysterious charm, and seemed, like one of the
splendid illusions, with which the enthusiasm of religion brightens the
holy dream of its votarist, like the spirit which descends amidst the
shadows of night upon the slumbers of the blessed. Considered as the
offspring of Brahma, as a ray of the divine excellence, the Indians of
the most distinguished rank drew back as she approached, lest their very
breath should pollute that region of purity her respiration consecrated;
and the odour of the sacred flowers, by which she was adorned, was
inhaled with an eager devotion, as if it purified the soul it almost
seemed to penetrate. The venerated palanquin was guarded by a number of
pilgrim women, and the chief casts of the inhabitants of Lahore; while a
band of the native troops closed the procession, which proceeded to the
Pagoda of Crishna.
From the contemplation of a spectacle so new, so unexpected, the
Missionary retired within his solitary tent, with that feeling of horror
and disgust, which a profanation of the sentiment and purposes of
religion might be supposed to excite, in a mind so pure, so zealous, so
far above all the pomp and passions of life, and hitherto so ignorant of
all the images connected with their representation. The music, the
perfumes, the women, the luxury, and the splendour of the extraordinary
procession, offended his piety, and almost disordered his imagination.
He thought, for a moment, of the perils of an enterprise, undertaken in
a country where the very air was unfavourable to virtue, and where all
breathed a character of enjoyment, even over the awful sanctity of
religion; a species of enjoyment, to whose very existence he had been,
hitherto, almost a stranger; but the genius of his zeal warmed in
proportion to the obstacles he found he had to encounter, and he waited
impatiently for the arrival of the Pundit, who was to lead him to the
vestibule of the pagoda.
They proceeded, before mid-day, to the temple, which was approached
through several avenues of lofty trees. On every side marble basins,
filled with consecrated water, reflected from their brilliant surfaces,
the domes and galleries of the pagoda. On every side the golden flowers
of the assoca, the tree of religious rites, shed their rich and
intoxicating odours.
In submission to those prejudices, which he could only hope finally to
vanquish by previously respecting, he suffered himself to be led to a
consecrated tank, and, having bathed, he assumed the Indian jama. As he
passed the portals of the pagoda, he was struck by the grotesque figure
of an idol, before whose shrine a crowd of deluded votarists lay
prostrate: he turned away his eyes in horror, kissed the crucifix which
was concealed within the folds of his dress, and proceeded to the
vestibule of the temple. The ceremony of the day was concluded; the
priestesses had performed their religious dances before Crishna, the
Indian Apollo, and idol of the temple; the usual offerings of fruit and
flowers, of gold and precious odours, had been made at his shrine; and
the learned of the various sects of the Brahminical faith had assembled,
at an awful distance round the Guru, to hold their religious disputation
and controversial arguments.
In the centre of the vestibule, and on an elevated cushion, reposed the
venerable form of the Brahmin. His beard of snow fell beneath his
girdle; an air, still, calm, and motionless, diffused itself over his
aged figure; a mild and holy abstraction involved his tranquil
countenance; no trace of human passions furrowed his expansive brow; all
was the repose of nature, the absence of mortality; and he presented to
the fancy and the mind, a fine and noble image of that venerated God,
an incarnation of whose excellence he believed himself to be. A railing
of gold and ebony marked the hallowed boundary, which none were
permitted to pass, save the Prophetess of Cashmire. _She_ sat near him,
veiled only by that religious mystery of air and look, which involved
her person, as though a cloud of evening mists threw its soft shadows
round her. Forbidden the use of ornaments, by her profession, except
that of consecrated flowers, the scarlet berries of the sweet sumbal,
the flower of the Ganges, alone enwreathed her brow; a string of
mogrees, whose odour exceeded the ottar of the rose, encircled her neck,
with the dsandam, or three Brahminical threads, the distinguishing
insignia of her distinguished cast[10]. Her downcast eyes were fixed
upon the muntras, the Indian rosary, which were twined round her wrist;
and o’er whose beads she softly murmured the Gayatras, or text of the
Shaster. And when, with a slight motion of the head, she threw back the
dark shining tresses which shaded her brow, in the centre of her
forehead appeared the small consecrated mark of the tallertum. So finely
was her form and attitude contrasted by the venerable figure of her aged
grandsire, that the spring of eternal youth seemed to diffuse its
immortal bloom and freshness round her, and she looked like the tutelar
intelligence of the Hindu mythology, newly descended on earth, from the
radiant sphere assigned to her in the Indian zodiac.
At a little distance from the railing, stood the pilgrim-women who
attended on the chief Priestess, fanning the air with peacock’s
feathers, and diffusing around an atmosphere of roses, from the musky
tresses and fragrant flowers of the Brachmachira. On either side of the
vestibule stood groups of the various sects of Brahma and of Bhudda,
while pilgrims and faquirs, with the chief casts of Lahore, filled the
bottom of the vast and mighty hall.
The religious disputants spoke in orderly succession, without appearing
to feel or to excite enthusiasm, contented to detail their own
doctrines, rather than anxious to controvert the doctrines of others. A
devotee of the Musnavi sect took the lead; he praised the mysteries of
the Bhagavat, and explained the profound allegory of the six Ragas[11],
who, wedded to immortal nymphs, and fathers of lovely genii, presided in
the Brahminical mythology over the seasons. A disciple of the Vedanti
school spoke of the transports of mystic love, and maintained the
existence of spirit only; while a follower of Bhudda supported the
doctrine of matter, as the only system void of all illusion. One spoke
of the fifth element, or subtle spirit, which causes universal
attraction, so that the most minute particle is impelled to some
particular object; and another, of the great soul which attended the
birth of all embodied creatures, connecting it with the divine essence
which pervades the universe; while all, involved in mysteries beyond the
comprehension of human reason, or lost in the intricacies of
metaphysical theories, betrayed, in their respective doctrines, the
wreck of that abstract learning, which, too little connected with the
true happiness of society, was anciently borrowed, even by the Greeks
themselves, from the sages of India, and by the partial revival of
which, even the philosophers of modern Europe once made a false, but
distinguished reputation.
It was during a pause which followed the declaration of the
last-mentioned tenets, that the apostolic Nuncio suddenly appeared in
the midst of the vestibule. His lofty and towering figure, the kindling
lustre of his countenance, the high command which sat upon his brow, the
bright enthusiasm which beamed within his eye, and the dignified and
religious meekness which distinguished his air and attitude, all formed
a fine and striking contrast to the slight diminutive forms, the sallow
hues, and timid sadness, of the Indians who surrounded him. Clad in a
white robe, his fine-formed head and feet uncovered, he looked like the
spirit of Truth descended from heaven, to spread on earth its pure and
radiant light.
The impression of his appearance was decisive: it sank at once to the
soul; and he imposed conviction on the senses, ere he made his claim on
the understanding. He spoke, and the multitude pressed near him--he
spoke of the religion of Brahma, of the Avaratas, or incarnations of its
founder, and of those symbolic images of the divine attributes, beneath
whose mysterious veil a pure system of natural religion was visible,
which, though inevitably dark, uncertain, and obscure, was not unworthy
to receive upon its gloom the light of a divine revelation: then,
raising his hands and eyes to heaven, and touching the earth with his
bended knee, he invoked the protection of the God of Christians, even in
the temple of Brahma, and, surrounded by idols and by idolaters, boldly
unfolded the object of his mission, and preached that word, whose
divinity he was ready to attest with his blood.
His eloquence resembled, in its progress, those great elementary
conflicts, whose sounds of awe come rolling grandly, deeply on,
breathing the mandate of Omnipotence, and evincing its force and power;
till touched, rapt, inspired by his theme, the tears of holy zeal which
filled his eyes, the glow of warm enthusiasm which illumined his
countenance, the strong, but pure emotions, which shook his frame,
kindled around him a correspondent ardour. Some _believed_, who sought
not to _comprehend_; others were persuaded, who could not be convinced;
and many admired, who had not been influenced; while all sought to
conceal the effects his eloquence and his doctrine produced: for their
hearts and their imaginations were still the victims of that dreadful
fear, which _loss of cast_ inspired; and the truths, so bright and new,
now offered to their reason, were not sufficient in their effects to
vanquish prejudices so dark and old, as those by which the Indian mind
was held in thraldom. He ceased to speak, and all was still as death.
His hands were folded on his bosom, to which his crucifix was pressed;
his eyes were cast in meekness on the earth; but the fire of his zeal
still played, like a ray from heaven, on his brow.
The Guru of Cashmire, who had listened to the wild mysteries of the
Indian sophists, and the pure truths of the Christian Missionary, with
equal composure, and, perhaps, with equal indifference, now arose to
speak, and a new impulse was given to the attention of the multitude.
Prejudice and habit resumed their influence, and all hung with
veneration on the incoherent words pronounced by the tremulous and aged
voice of a Brahmin, to whom his votarists almost paid divine honours,
and who, with a motionless air and look, exclaimed: “I set my heart on
the foot of Brahma, gaining knowledge only of him: it is by devotion
alone, that we are enabled to see the three worlds, celestial,
terrestrial, and ethereal; let us, then, meditate eternally within our
minds, and remember, that the natural duties of the children of Brahma
are peace, self-restraint, patience, rectitude, and wisdom. Praise be
unto Vishnu!”
He ceased:--the dome of the temple was rent with acclamations: the
oracle of the north of India, his words were deemed rays of light. The
rhapsody, which made no claim on the understanding, accorded with, the
indolence of the Indian mind:--the eloquence of the Missionary was no
longer remembered; and the disciples of the Guru hastened to conduct him
to the college prepared for his reception. The procession resumed its
order. Incense was flung upon the air; the choral hymn was raised by
the priestesses, and the imposing splendour of the most powerful of all
human superstitions, resumed its influence over minds which sought not
to resist its magic force.
The apostolic Nuncio remained alone in the temple. He inhaled the
fragrance of the atmosphere, he caught the languid strains of the
religious women, and he beheld the splendid processions winding through
the arches of the temple, and disappearing among the trees which
screened its approach. At his feet lay some flowers, which fell from the
palanquin of the Prophetess, as she passed him. He stood, not
confounded, but yet not unmoved. The rapid vicissitude of feeling, of
emotion, which he had undergone, was so new to a mind so firm, to a soul
so abstracted, that for a moment he felt as though his whole being had
suffered a supernatural change. But this distraction was but momentary:
the man of genius soon rallied those high unconquerable powers, which,
for an instant, had bent to the impression of novel and extraordinary
incidents, and had been diverted from their aspiring bias by
circumstances of mere external influence. The man of God soon recovered
that sacred calm, which a breast that reflected Heaven’s own peace had,
till now, never forfeited. He cast round his eyes, and beheld on every
side disgustful images of the darkest idolatry: he shuddered, and
hastened from the Pagoda. In one of its avenues he was met by the
Pundit. The Cashmirian complimented him in all the hyperbole of Eastern
phrase, on the power of his unrivalled eloquence, and the force of his
unanswered arguments: he said, “that it rather resembled the inspiration
of Heaven, than the ability of man;” and declared, “that he believed its
influence, though not general, was in some individual instances strong
and decisive.” The Missionary turned his eyes on him with a religious
solicitude of look. “I allude,” replied the Pundit, “to the
Brachmachira, _the Priestess of Cashmire_, whose conversion, if once
effected, might prove the redemption of her whole nation.”
A deep blush crimsoned the face of the Missionary, and he involuntarily
drew his hand across his eyes, though unconscious that any look beamed
there which Heaven should not meet. “You are silent,” said the Pundit,
“and, doubtless, deem the task impracticable; and I confess it to be
nearly so. This may be the last pilgrimage the Priestess will undertake,
and, consequently, the last time she will ever publicly show herself;
for, except when engaged in the offices of their religion, as sacerdotal
women, all the females of her cast, in India, are guarded in the
retirement of their zenanas, with a vigilance unknown in other
countries. Habituated to this sacred privacy, the fairest Hindus sigh
not after a world, of which they are wholly ignorant. Devoted to their
husbands and their gods, religion and love make up the business of their
lives. Such were they, when Alexander first invaded their country--such
are they now. Pure and tender, faithful and pious, zealous alike in
their fondness and their faith, they immolate themselves as martyrs to
both, and expire on the pile which consumes the objects of their
affection, to inherit the promise which religion holds out to their
hopes; for the heaven of an Indian woman is the eternal society of him
whom she loved on earth. In all the religions of the East, woman has
held a decided influence, either as priestess or as victim; but the
women of India seem particularly adapted to the offices and influence
of their faith, and in the religion of Brahma they take a considerable
part. The Ramgannies, or officiating priestesses, are of an inferior
rank and class, in every respect, and are much more distinguished for
their zeal than for their purity; but the Brachmachira is of an order
the most austere and most venerated, which can only be professed by a
woman who is at once a widow[12] and vestal: a seeming paradox, but
illustrated by the history of Luxima, the Prophetess of Cashmire.
“Born in the most distinguished cast of India, she was betrothed, in
childhood, to a young Brahmin of superior rank; but, from the morning
she received the golden girdle of marriage, she beheld him no more. He
had devoted himself to the Tupaseya, or sacred pilgrimage, until the age
of his bride should permit him to claim her. He went to the sacred Caves
of Elora, he, visited the Temple of Jaggarnauth, and died on his return
to Cashmire, at Nurdwar, while engaged in performing penance near the
source of the Ganges.
“Tender, pious, and ambitious, Luxima would have ascended the funeral
pile. The tears and infirmities of her grandsire prevailed. Childless
but for her, she consented for his sake to live, and embraced the
alternative held out to women in her situation of becoming a
Brachmachira, being the only child of an only child. The riches of her
opulent family, according to the laws of Menu, centre in herself, and
are expended in such acts of public and private beneficence as are
calculated to increase the popular veneration, which her extraordinary
zeal, and the austere purity of her life, have awakened. To make
pilgrimages, frequently to repeat the worship of her sect, and to lead a
life of vestal purity, are the peculiar duties of her order. To be
endowed with the spirit of prophecy is its peculiar gift. Multitudes,
from every part of India, come to consult her on future events; and her
vague answers are looked upon as decisions, which, sometimes verified
by chance, are seldom suffered by prepossession to be considered as
false.
“There are few of this order now existing in India, and Luxima is the
most celebrated. But it is not to her zeal only she owes her unrivalled
distinction: she is, by birth, a sacerdotal woman and a Cashmirian; the
ascendency of her beauty, therefore, is sometimes mistaken for the
influence of the zeal which belongs to her profession; and perhaps the
Priestess too often receives an homage which the woman only excites[13].
She is a disciple of the Vedanti school: the delicate ardour of her
imagination finds a happy vehicle in the doctrines of her pure but
fervid faith; and the sublime but impassioned tenets of religious love
flow with peculiar grace from lips which seem equally consecrated to
human tenderness. Every thing adds to the mystic charm which breathes
o’er her character and person. Abstracted in her brilliant error,
absorbed in the splendid illusion of her religious dreams, believing
herself the purest incarnation of the purest spirit, her elevated soul
dwells not on the sensible images by which she is surrounded, but is
wholly fixed upon the heaven of her own creation; and her beauty, her
enthusiasm, her graces, and her genius, alike capacitate her to
propagate and support the errors of which she herself is the victim.
“Such is the proselyte I propose to your zeal. Once converted, her
example would operate like a spell on her compatriots, and the follower
of Brahma would fly from the altar of his ancient gods, to worship in
that temple in which she would become a votarist.”
The Pundit paused, and the Nuncio was still silent. At last he asked,
“if the Pundit had not observed, that an interview with an Indian woman
of the Brahminical cast was next to impossible?”
“It is nearly so with all Indian women of distinction,” he replied; “but
a Brachmachira, from being more sacred than other women, excites more
confidence in her friends[14]. To approach her would be deemed sacrilege
in any cast but her own; but her obligation to perform worship to the
morning and evening sun, on the banks of consecrated rivers, exposes her
to the view of those who are withheld by no prejudices, or restrained
by no law, from approaching her.”
They had now reached the Missionary’s tent. The Pundit took his leave,
and the Christian retired, to give himself up to the usual religious
exercise of the evening.